


Light Up the Torches

by HigherMagic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Biting, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Creampie, Dark Will Graham, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infertility, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic
Summary: "We need to find out who this rogue agent is," Sutcliffe says. "Right now, I think it would be fair to assume they're one of ours or our allies', since only our enemies are being killed."Hannibal nods. "Hold briefings with all your captains," he tells them. "I want no stone unturned. Tell them that whoever is doing this will not come to harm; I would very much like to meet them."





	Light Up the Torches

**Author's Note:**

> So I put a poll up on my twitter because I wanted to write ABO gangsters and I wanted to know if people wanted Omega!Will or !Hannibal - the poll was pretty close and my bastard brain decided to write one of each. So here's the Omega!Will one! The Omega!Hannibal one will be coming soon - it's a lot more plot-heavy and will have multiple chapters so I was waiting until this one was done to start it :D
> 
> The noncon/suicide tags are not regarding Hannigram, and are only mentioned - the Red Dragon in this fic does the stuff the Red Dragon does in the show/books but it's not graphic at all. If you have any concerns or questions please feel free to message me here, or on Tumblr and Twitter, I have the same name everywhere.
> 
> Title is taken from Rise Against's "Wolves" - an absolute banger, highly recommend.
> 
> I hope you guys like it! Enjoy!

Hannibal sits motionless, keeps his outer appearance detached as he surveys the women and other Alphas as they gather in the room. Most of them have been with him, and part of his organization, for over five years – they are loyal, fiercely loyal (the ones who were not were dealt with accordingly) and he can say he trusts all of them to oversee and manage major projects, report to him of any potential alliances or threats, and though he would never think them more capable of guarding him or his mate than Hannibal is, he would trust them to obey his orders and die trying to protect them, if it came to that.

The room is open, no table or chairs within except the one Hannibal is sitting in. The others flank the walls, giving him space. There are seven in total, because Hannibal has a certain poetic affinity for the number and because he's found it just large enough for effectiveness and small enough for secrecy.

He flattens one hand on his armrest, the motion enough to draw the attention of the others, and the room falls silent. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, and lifts his chin. "We have a situation on our hands."

They blink at them. Some tilt their hears. At the other end of the room, Bedelia makes a curious sound.

Hannibal drums his fingers on his armrest in a slow roll. "There have been a string of murders in this great city of ours. High profile assassinations going unaccounted for." He looks across their faces carefully, waiting to see if there is any flash, any spark, of guilt or recognition at his words. None come, but Hannibal's generals are all masters at their craft, and masks come with the territory.

"Ours?" Tobias asks, at Bedelia's side.

Hannibal shakes his head. "A few notable enemies of ours," Hannibal replies, and hears a surprised murmur cross his generals. "Not foot soldiers, either." He breathes in, slowly, and says, "The Red Dragon is dead."

At his declaration, there is silence.

Then, "Impossible!" Chiyoh hisses. "I've been working his pack for _weeks_ , and haven't even smelled him nearby."

"Perhaps it was one of his own," Sutcliffe suggests, and looks to Hannibal. "This mysterious killer is not harming any of this pack?"

Hannibal nods. "So far," he replies. "But each side of that coin carries a price – if this person does begin to target this pack, it means they have no loyalties and no reason to change those loyalties, and we are all at risk, for they have shown a certain ability in getting close to high-ranking pack members." He sees Bedelia and Chiyoh exchange a look – it's no secret that women are more effective when it comes to things like that, and the looks on their faces are easy to read; they are checking with each other, scanning their mental catalogue to see if there have been any new faces.

"But," Hannibal adds, "if this killer does not, and keeps to our enemies and leaves us and our allies alone, it won't be long before the other side notices as well. They may wrongly believe it to be an agent of ours behind it, and act…rashly."

Closest to him, Chiyoh shows her teeth. Though she is female, she postures like an Alpha. "Let them try."

There are nods around the circle, and then the pack goes still at the sound of a low, sweet laugh. Bedelia and Tobias, closest to the door, part, revealing Will as he enters the room. Hannibal immediately straightens at the sight of him, a powerful rumble in his chest – pleasure, at seeing his mate. Will looks as lovely as he ever does, the gold in his eyes shining with the healthy gleam of a happy, cared-for Omega. He's smiling widely, showing the points of his own fangs, and passes through the circle, towards Hannibal.

He gives Chiyoh a warm smile, and she schools her expression, bowing her head once. Will nods back to her, and closes the final distance between himself and Hannibal. Their eyes meet and Hannibal knows he's showing his red – it's impossible to resist. Hannibal has spent most of his life curbing his instincts and making sure he could make his face and body move in whatever way he desired, but when he looks at Will he is little more than a beast.

Will smiles at him – _God_ , he's beautiful – and easily falls to sit in his place at Hannibal's feet. It is tradition, and not anything Hannibal forced him to do when they first mated, but Will insisted – the pack Omega sits by his mate, both to provide a sweet canvas for his Alpha's anger, or offer wise, soothing council when asked. Since Will is his mate, they have unique power over each other.

Will sighs when Hannibal slides his hand across his shoulder, cups the side of his throat, and finds Will's steady pulse with his thumb. Though Will has done nothing but sit and sigh, Hannibal feels calmed by him instantly. Such is Will's power over him.

Will grins at them all, then tilts his head up to meet Hannibal's eyes. It's all Hannibal can do not to bow forward and kiss him, but he is a possessive creature, and the sight of Will's affection is not something he's willing to share.

"Don't let me interrupt," Will murmurs, the vibrations of his voice brushing along Hannibal's fingers. He smiles, nails dragging idly, gently, across Will's warm neck. Will shivers and puts his cheek to Hannibal's knee.

"We need to find out who this rogue agent is," Sutcliffe says. "Right now, I think it would be fair to assume they're one of ours or our allies', since only our enemies are being killed."

Hannibal nods. "Hold briefings with all your captains," he tells them. "I want no stone unturned. Tell them that whoever is doing this will not come to harm; I would very much like to meet them."

The rest nod, and then Will lets out a quiet, happy laugh when they don't move. "I think he meant 'now'," he says, enough bite in his voice that Hannibal wants to laugh. He purrs, for his mate's sake, as his generals nod and file out of the room. Once they are gone, and the door closes, Hannibal slides his other hand into Will's hair, tilts his head up until he can see his mate's beautiful eyes.

Will smiles at him, wide and warm, and turns, tucking his knees over Hannibal's foot and putting his shoulder against one of Hannibal's shins. His head drops, cheek to Hannibal's thigh, lashes fluttering as Hannibal pets him.

"Are you alright, darling?" Hannibal asks, for Will so rarely comes to him during one of his meetings with his generals. Either Will is here for the whole time, having decided in advance to listen in on the meetings, or he is elsewhere in the house, entertaining himself while Hannibal commands his pack solo.

Will doesn't answer right away, and Hannibal lets out a curious rumble, bowing forward so he can nuzzle Will's soft hair. He smells clean, freshly-showered, his hair a little damp, still, at the roots. Hannibal drags his nose through his curls, cups Will's nape with one hand to hold him still so he can fill his lungs with his mate's scent.

Will tilts his head, lets Hannibal pet over his neck, and sighs again. His hands curl around Hannibal's calves, warm and strong. "I got bored," he says lightly, and lifts his head. He smiles, and Hannibal returns it, unable to stop himself touching Will as much as he desires. "What's going on? This place stinks."

Hannibal huffs, knowing Will is smelling Alphas all riled up, deep concern in the air. "You don't need to worry about that, my love."

Will's eyes flash. His jaw bulges at the corner, he sucks in a sharp breath, and looks away.

Hannibal's head tilts. Will shoves himself to his feet with a soft snarl, moves a pace away, and turns and fixes Hannibal with his sharp, golden gaze. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he demands. Hannibal blinks, and shakes his head. "I'm _not_ stupid, Hannibal – I've always known exactly who and what you are, what kind of work you do. Why do you keep insisting on keeping me out of it?"

Hannibal sighs – he and Will so rarely fight, but this has been a point of contention for a long time. He stands, and goes to his mate, but Will snaps his teeth together and pushes back.

"Don't touch me," he demands.

"Will, darling," Hannibal says quietly, but Will is clearly in a mood to fight – his shoulders roll and tighten, his hands curl into fists by his sides.

"Am I not your mate?" Will asks, and pulls at the collar of his shirt, showing the old, silver scar Hannibal placed on his neck the night they mated. "Don't you trust me?"

"With everything I am," Hannibal replies. "But what I do, Will, it's dangerous. Not only that, but it's not pleasant." Will's eyes flash again, his upper lip lifts in a brief snarl – Will is the only one Hannibal can tolerate such behavior from. It's one of the reasons Hannibal mated with him in the first place; Will's passion, his fire, is unmatched.

"I can handle it," he snaps.

"Can you?" Hannibal replies, brows rising. "Alright. Come," he says, and leads the way out of the room. Will hisses at his back, but follows, a half-step behind as he always is, and Hannibal leads him out of the meeting room, down the stairs, and out into the back garden. The gardens of his home are lavish and large, blooming with flowers now that it's spring time.

At the door, one of their guards is standing, and Hannibal holds out his hand. "Give me your gun," he demands of the Alpha, and the man blinks at him, and hands it over without a word. "Thank you."

He offers it to Will. Will lowers his eyes, presses his lips together, and takes it. It looks clunky and unsteady in his hand, and he holds it too hard, uncertain as he looks down at it. Hannibal walks away without a word and Will follows, until they are around the front of the house.

He stops. The house opens to a street, lined with brownstones like his own, perfectly polite and respectable. Most of the houses, though, are owned by members of his pack – this is Hannibal's territory, his Kingdom on the borders of Baltimore.

Hannibal waits until Will appears at his side, and smiles at him. "How does the weapon feel?" he asks.

"Heavy," Will replies.

Hannibal nods. "You'll get used to it," he murmurs, and then he looks out to the street again. No one here would betray him, he knows, but – he nods to another guard, standing watch at the end of the little walkway that goes between the front door and the sidewalk. "Do you know that man?"

Will swallows. "He's one of yours," he says.

Hannibal smiles. "I think he's been passing secrets between our pack and our enemies," he says. Will frowns, and looks at him. "If I'm right, he will be executed." His head tilts when Will looks down at the gun in his hand. "I would kill him myself – the man who gives the order to kill must be the one who follows through. But you are my mate, and your law is my law."

He nods to the back of the man's head. "Shoot him."

Will stiffens. "What?"

"Shoot him," Hannibal says lightly. He raises his brows when Will makes a hard, uncomfortable sound. "This is the reality of my business, Will – that man could be my own brother, but if he betrayed me, I would kill him."

"An innocent man doesn't have to die for you to prove your point," Will hisses, and shoves the gun into Hannibal's hands. "I'm not one of your fucking dogs."

"Exactly," Hannibal says with a nod. Will blinks at him, and blows out a heavy breath. "You are my most treasured mate, my perfect equal. If you insist on knowing the details of my business, you must be prepared for all of them, darling. Even the gritty, unpleasant parts."

"This isn't the same, and you know it," Will snarls.

Hannibal's head tilts. "So if I brought you a true enemy – one of the dragon's, or Crawford's men, and put him on his knees in front of you and told you to kill him, you would?"

Will meets his gaze steadily. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, fixes Hannibal with one more seething glare, and turns away.

"Fuck you," he snarls, and slams the front door closed behind him.

Hannibal sighs, and looks down at the gun in his hands. He circles the house and returns it to the guard with a smile, and goes to sit on one of the benches in the garden. In the early stages of their courtship, Hannibal would never allow Will to walk away from him angry – he would seek to chase, to soothe, to placate and touch Will until he was sweet and malleable once again.

Time has tempered that urge. Will can be inconceivably cruel, and Hannibal delights in his cruelty. He loves that Will isn't afraid of him, is willing to snap and snarl and voice his desires when Hannibal asks. If Will calms down, he will return to Hannibal and apologize, but if he doesn't – well, Will has always been beautiful in his anger, a breathtaking companion in Hannibal's bed when he's riled up.

It's not something Hannibal has never considered before – bringing Will into the fold, letting him act as Hannibal's hands and will within his pack. The pack Omega is a powerful leadership role, and Hannibal would not tolerate having a weak mate at his side. He made sure Will is capable in combat, knows he is smart and cunning.

But…

There is something to be said for the separation of work and home life. Hannibal's pack surrounds him, keeps them safe, and come and go from his home as they need to. Their upper rooms, where Will and Hannibal sleep and enjoy each other, are off-limits except through explicit invitation. Hannibal likes being able to shed his clothes and skin once he's with Will, likes being with someone who simply sees him as he is – not pack Alpha, not the leader, but as a mate. Will is someone Hannibal doesn't have to posture and pretend for; his anger, his frustration, his love, his devotion, are all Will's to enjoy at their utmost genuine.

A shadow darkens his periphery, and Chiyoh appears at his side, breaking Hannibal from his thoughts. He looks up at her, and straightens at the look of deep concern on her face.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Jack Crawford's wife is dead," she tells him. "Looks like suicide."

'Looks like'.

Hannibal curses under his breath. He sits forward, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and shakes his head. "He will blame me," he says. He looks up at her. "Any news from our captains that might shed some light on who this new player is?"

She shakes her head, but it has been under an hour – Hannibal didn't expect any word so soon. "None of mine claim to know anything," she says. Hannibal nods, and sighs again.

"Tell everyone that there will be a reward, for whoever comes forward to claim these kills," he tells her. "We must find out who this person is, immediately."

She nods, and bows her head. "I'll see it done," she says, and leaves again.

Hannibal sighs. Their enemies are dropping like flies, and not knowing who is behind them is a huge annoyance, buzzing in his brain. He glares down at the flowers that spread across his field of vision, and feels a tremor of anxiety run through him – if enough of their enemies become enraged enough, they will seek him out. They might try and attack. Hannibal's pack is not the largest by far, but they have a fierce reputation. Still, sheer numbers would win out, when all's said and done.

If Jack decides Hannibal was, somehow, responsible for the death of his wife, the logical target for him would be Will.

Hannibal stands, and calls the guard over. "Double your watch at the doors," he commands. Until this rogue is caught and accounted for, he will not let Will come under threat.

 

 

Will doesn't return to him for the whole day, and the absence of his mate combined with the new threats to his pack have rendered Hannibal in a very unfriendly mood by the time he retires to bed. Even the sight of Will in their nest, sleepy and sweet, does little to gentle his teeth.

He sheds his clothes and slides into their nest behind Will, pressing his nose to his mate's nape, hoping that his scent will soothe. Will stirs, lets out a grumpy huff, but doesn't tense or push Hannibal away when Hannibal embraces him.

Will breathes in. His head tilts. "Are you angry with me?" he asks.

Hannibal sighs, and makes his hands gentle, sliding them down Will's chest to his soft stomach. "No, my love," he replies. "Forgive me."

"What am I forgiving you for?"

Hannibal sighs. He presses closer, desperate to feel Will's strong, warm flesh against his own. "Will you let me…?"

Will tenses.

Hannibal sighs again, and nuzzles his wild hair. "Then, I suppose, forgive me for asking."

He has been asked – only once, for they learned their lesson the first time – why Will hasn't given him children. They've been mated for years, and it's a telling sign of Hannibal's status as an Alpha that Will hasn't fallen pregnant through any of them. The truth is Will takes suppressants; he despises the feeling of being in heat, and told Hannibal he would not do it, even for him. A small concession, and one Hannibal never minded, for Will is sweet and eager for him when he wants to be, and truthfully being indisposed for days during Will's heat could be catastrophic for his pack if one of their enemies struck while he was distracted.

But his suppressants have the unfortunate side effect of crippling his sex drive almost entirely. Will allowed Hannibal to mount him for the sake of sealing their bond, giving each other Voices and tying themselves together, but Hannibal is often so busy, Will's body so unresponsive, that their physical connection is largely chaste. Hannibal could happily embrace Will, touch and scent him, forever – the lack of regular intercourse is a paltry concern when Will gives him so much other physical intimacy.

Hannibal's mind is aflame, though, as he is – he wants to pour it out in Will's slick, wants to sate his thirst with Will's blood and calm the raging Alpha instinct in his skull.

Will turns, onto his other side, and faces him. He presses close, tucking his nose beneath Hannibal's jaw, licking over his throat in a sweet, placative motion. His hands flatten on Hannibal's bare chest and he shivers as Hannibal drags blunt nails down his back.

"I'll never deny you anything you ask for," he says quietly, and runs a hand down Hannibal's chest, settling in a teasing touch low on his belly. He pushes one of his thighs between Hannibal's, shivers when Hannibal snarls, clutching at him tightly, a hand in Will's hair. Will rolls against him, tempting Hannibal with his warmth and his bared neck, shivering when Hannibal purrs loudly in his ear.

Will tilts his head, shows his neck, waits until Hannibal's teeth find the mating scar on his throat, and says; "But you only ask when you really need it." Hannibal growls, fingers flexing on Will, but allows his mate to pull back, lets Will meet his gaze, his eyes a bright and beautiful gold, meshing with the natural blue, forming green in places. "I'm not stupid, Hannibal – I can feel how stressed out you are. I…"

He swallows, and removes his touch, ducks his face and lowers his lashes.

"I wish you trusted me enough to share it with me."

"It's not a question of trust, Will," Hannibal breathes. He needs Will to know that, needs Will to believe that, desperately. He tucks his fingers beneath Will's chin, makes him lift his eyes, and kisses him because Will has always been eager for that. Will shivers, and sighs against his mouth. "I do trust you, and love you more than I could possibly love another person. I just…"

He sighs, and shakes his head, lifts his chin to kiss Will's forehead.

"Tell me," Will demands, soft and breathy.

"It's complicated."

"I'm pretty smart, I'm sure I can keep up." Unlike before, Will's voice is playful, and Hannibal can't help smiling. Will sighs, and nuzzles Hannibal's neck, drags his nails to Hannibal's hips and uses his grip to arch closer. "We can talk about it later, though, if you want."

Hannibal blinks, surprised. "Darling, if you're not in the mood -."

"I always want you, Hannibal," Will says, cutting him off. "Just…touch me. I'll get there."

Hannibal shivers. That much, at least, is true – Will's body will respond to stimulus eventually, the spirit is willing; Hannibal just needs to put in the effort to guide Will to slickness. Needs to touch Will's neck, bite and nuzzle him, needs to coax his thighs to part, needs to trigger every sensitive spot in him to get his pulse racing.

The thought occurs to him that Will's desire to know his business, and the way they have to move together for sex, are not dissimilar. Hannibal has the power, here, to get Will to act as he pleases – Will is an open mold, a hollow cavern, and though he doesn't suffer the ache Omegas do, to be mounted and filled and bred, he is empty, and can take it. Will is here, and wanting, and just because Hannibal has never thought him suited to the grit and viscera of a crime lord's life, it doesn't mean he couldn't be.

He kisses Will, rolls him onto his back as Will trembles and lets out a sweet, plaintive whine. His eyes shine in the darkness, he shows his fangs as his legs spread, letting Hannibal settle between them. Hannibal kisses again, cups Will's nape and squeezes, triggering the instinct in Will to go lax and wanting, trusting his Alpha to take care of him.

Will's lashes flutter, swoop low to kiss his cheeks, he tilts his head up and away to show his neck and growls, hands gentle on Hannibal's shoulders. Oh, his sweet, beautiful mate – he is so lovely, and smells wonderful even without the sweetness of his slick to incite the rut instinct. Hannibal still feels it, though – he would challenge any Alpha to look at Will and not feel it.

His other hand slides down Will's flank, spreads out wide on his hip, coaxing Will to arch up as he trembles beneath Hannibal's weight. Will moans weakly, his cheeks flushing in the heat of their nest, sweat making his hair dampen and curl, slipping between Hannibal's fingers at his nape.

"You're so beautiful, Will," Hannibal whispers. This, Will always reacts to – play talk; instinct-driven words between Alphas and Omegas before or during sex, that tug on Omegas' need to submit and whine, that give Alphas the visceral satisfaction of knowing they're satisfying their mates. "Never in my life have I met someone who satisfies me, who completes me, like you do."

Will shivers, panting heavily, and turns his head for another kiss, moaning into it as his stomach clenches, his cock twitches and begins to harden against Hannibal's belly. No slick yet, but that's alright – the impatience in Hannibal is curbed now, gentled by the sounds his mate is making, the warmth of him and the knowledge that he's safe, here, pinned beneath Hannibal's weight. Hannibal pushes him against the nest, breathes in their mixed scents deeply, drinks the sounds Will is making as Hannibal ruts between his soft thighs, lets his leaking cockhead provide the slick Will's body can't.

Will's nails sharpen, suddenly, and he arches up, gasping, sweaty thighs slipping over Hannibal's hips, heels digging into him, urging him on. Will's chest expands with a rapid inhale, his breath hitching, and Hannibal snarls, touches his nose to Will's neck to scent him, to put his teeth over the mating bite.

"Oh, God," Will whispers. "Fuck – let, let me -." He pushes at Hannibal until he rises, and Will rolls onto his belly, pushes himself to his knees and arches to Hannibal's chest. Hannibal growls, and lunges over him, biting the nape of Will's neck savagely and gripping his hips tight.

His cock ruts between Will's legs, as Will brings his thighs together and lets Hannibal fuck between them. The skin will pinken, chafe, grow raw so Will doesn't walk easily in the morning. Hannibal growls, pulls back, and spreads Will wide, baring his tight, dry rim.

He lowers his mouth to Will, licks broad and wide over his hole, and Will groans, dropping to his chest. He's sensitive here, always has been, and his body flexes and opens for Hannibal's tongue, lets it inside. Hannibal uses his thumbs to keep Will exposed, gathers saliva and pushes it into Will to get him wet.

Will claws at his own hair, exposing his nape and his cheek as he turns his head to one side, breathing hard, his eyes all-gold now. Despite his suppressants, he is so undeniably _Omega_ , to the bone, Hannibal's perfect mate.

"Hannibal, please," he whispers, and shivers as Hannibal licks him open again, lets go with one hand to spit on his fingers and work them inside. He can feel a little of Will's natural slick, now, and nuzzles his spine, kisses open and wet on Will's flexing back. "Fuck, _yes,_ yeah – I'm ready. Mount me."

Hannibal shudders, shoulders tensing, but Will is using his Voice, and Hannibal is helpless to resist. The urge is already there, hooked like a fish on the line, but Will's Voice tugs him right out of the water, and he will drown and die in Will's arms if he has to.

He rears up, spits on his hand and wets his cockhead, and pushes into Will. Will is tight, burning hot, drier than Hannibal would normally be comfortable with, but Will moans loudly, throws his head back and rolls his hips, taking Hannibal to the hilt as Hannibal pushes all the way inside.

Hannibal collapses over him, hands at Will's wrists, keeping him pinned as he ruts forward, striving to pierce Will as deeply as he can. Will clenches up around him, whining sweet and high, lifts his neck to Hannibal's mouth and moans as Hannibal pulls back and thrusts forward.

He won't last long, he never does when Will uses his Voice – as if Will gives him a choice, when he does. Will snaps his teeth together, presses them flat to Hannibal's jaw, snarls as Hannibal builds up a slow, deep rhythm. If they were in a bed, the force of his thrusts would knock the headboard to the wall.

One of the reasons they have a nest, instead – one is that Omegas, and Will by extension, prefer them. The other being that the night they mated, Will was so wild for him, so savagely, primally wanting, that there's still a dent in Hannibal's bedroom wall from the headboard. Will rears up, forcing Hannibal to fuck him harder, forcing his body to part and clamping around Hannibal as he moves. Hannibal snarls, wild now, his head hot and his eyes burning with red.

He bites, sinks his teeth in hard enough to bruise Will's nape as Will howls, shuddering, tenses and comes with a low whine. Hannibal freezes, gasping – given how much preparation Will needs, it is rare for him to come from penetration alone. Something has incited his mate, excited him beyond reason, and in turn, Hannibal feels wild, primally satisfied at having sated Will.

"Oh, Will," he gasps, and embraces Will tightly, feels him tremble and whine as he finishes, and the scent of his seed is sharp and explosive in their nest. "You ruin me, darling, utterly, to my core." Will shivers, shows his throat, bows down so Hannibal can get as deep into him as possible.

"Knot me," Will demands, breathless and wanting.

"It'll hurt," Hannibal warns.

"Just do as I say," Will snaps, and Hannibal cannot help but smile – he could never deny Will like this. He growls, licks over the bite on Will's neck, nuzzles his wild hair and presses deep, going still. The urge to knot itches at the base of his spine, drives him to rut and soak in the feeling of Will's tight, twitching rim, his spasming inner muscles. His knot swells, locking them together, and Hannibal snarls as he finishes, rakes his nails up Will's arms and settles on his shoulders.

"Be still," he whispers, and Will obeys with another weak nod, wincing and whining when Hannibal works his knot in as deep as it can go, the seal of Will's rim keeping his seed inside as it floods him and pools in that place a child would grow, if Will was fertile. It doesn't feel like a loss – rather, just another sign of how sweet and eager Will is for him, that he would want Hannibal to try breeding him when it's impossible.

When the first wave crests and lets Hannibal breathe, he pushes Will to his belly and flattens himself over his mate, purring loudly in a counter-chorus to Will's soft rumble of pleasure. Will turns his head, nuzzles Hannibal's cheek, licks the corner of his mouth until Hannibal cups his face and kisses him.

They settle together to wait out his knot, and Hannibal sighs, petting and nuzzling his mate, soothing him down from the high and the pain of taking his knot when unstretched and not slick enough to make it comfortable. Will shivers, tensing up as Hannibal releases another load inside him, lashes low over his gold-black eyes.

Hannibal kisses him again, and closes his eyes.

He presses his nose to Will's cheek, and says; "Someone is killing our enemies for us."

Will tenses, lets out a curious sound. "I heard Sutcliffe saying so," he replies quietly, unmoving otherwise. Hannibal nods.

"Not just foot soldiers either," Hannibal adds, brushing his hands down Will's strong arms, where they're curled up to pillow his head. "The Red Dragon, and Jack Crawford's wife have both been eliminated. Bella Crawford's looked like suicide. The Red Dragon…" He hesitates – he didn't share this with his generals, but this is Will, and Will wanted to know; "He was castrated, his unnatural teeth removed – beaten until he was rendered to nothing but meat."

Will sucks in a sharp breath, and turns his head to meet Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal's knot deflates and he pulls out, and Will rolls onto his side, Hannibal on his as well so they're facing each other, pressed close. "I heard about the kinds of things the Red Dragon liked to do," he says, and Hannibal wants to growl, wants to demand to know who told Will such things, but he holds his tongue.

Will's head tilts, and he says; "Do you know who did it?"

"I'm trying to find out," Hannibal replies. "If it was one of ours, they are acting recklessly, and without authority – targeting high-profile enemies like that will surely spark retribution."

Will blinks at him, and frowns. "And if he's not one of ours?"

"Then they are a rogue, and have no loyalty to anyone, which makes them even more dangerous."

Will nods, pressing his lips together. He sighs through his nose, ducks his eyes briefly, to Hannibal's chest, then raises them again. Omegas naturally cannot hold eye contact with Alphas, but Will has, as always, been the exception to the rule. He meets Hannibal's gaze steadily.

"I've assigned everyone the task of sniffing them out," Hannibal says.

"Are you going to kill him?" Will asks.

Hannibal tilts his head. "That depends," he replies, and Will bites his lower lip. He seems tense, anxious – perhaps he is regretting asking Hannibal to be so open with him. Hannibal strokes down his flank, aching to soothe Will's shaking. "If this rogue is one of ours, I'd like to hear what he has to say. Ultimately, no, I do not think I would kill him – he acted to our benefit, in the long term, even if the short term promises to be chaotic."

Will smiles, at that. "You do so enjoy your control," he purrs, smile widening when Hannibal huffs. "But if you didn't know he was doing it, or who it was, you can't be held accountable."

"Even more unforgiveable, if they are one of mine." His head tilts. "You seem so certain it's a 'he'," he adds, and Will swallows, looking down again. "You keep saying 'he'."

"Well." Will shifts his weight, sighs again. "Dolarhyde was a…cruel man. I heard he would rape the carcasses of the women and Omegas he killed." A snarl passes across his face, something dark and angry that Hannibal has seldom seen. "He was castrated, his teeth removed. Kind of feels…like justice. It's how they used to punish rapists in the olden days."

"And Bella?" Hannibal asks, curious – Will has never volunteered his counsel like this. Then again, Hannibal has never asked. He thinks himself stupid now, for not doing so before. "What would an Omega have against her?"

"Omegas know how much Alphas love their wives, their mates," Will says quietly, and meets Hannibal's eyes. "If something happened to me, what would you do? Who would you not kill, if you thought they were responsible?"

"That's why I'm worried, darling," Hannibal murmurs, cupping Will's face. "If Jack thinks I had anything to do with it, he will come after you. He would hurt you, just to hurt me."

"Jack's not stupid, Hannibal," Will says. "And you said it looked like suicide. Would it be so unbelievable?"

"Perhaps," Hannibal admits. "But they're so close together."

Will nods, and smiles. "Well, I suppose if Freddie Lounds is the next to fall, we will have our answer," he purrs, pressing close, and kisses Hannibal chastely. Hannibal growls, for if Freddie were to die it would be a great victory – she is a slippery one, and very clever, unmated and unmatched in the size of her pack. It would also confirm, for certain, in Hannibal's mind, that this rogue agent is one of his, for his pack is the only one in an open quarrel with her.

Will sighs when the kiss ends, and gives Hannibal a sweet, loving smile. "Don't think about it anymore, tonight," he urges, and pets Hannibal's flank. "Be here, with me. Love me, and forget everything else."

"I do," Hannibal whispers, and kisses Will again.

 

 

"Alpha."

Hannibal lifts his head, finds all of his generals approaching him as one. He tenses, and rises fully from his car, shutting the door. Chiyoh spearheads the group, as the longest-standing member of his pack and second in command. She bows her head to him in deference, and he nods to her as well, surveying the rest of his generals. They all appear very tense, the scent of Alpha instinct stinging his nose; feminine concern.

He tilts his head. "What is it?"

"We know who the rogue agent is," Chiyoh says.

Hannibal blinks, and straightens. It has been almost a week since Hannibal gave the order to find him – he did not expect it so soon, and yet every day he has been tense and frustrated when receiving no updates. "Who?" he demands.

"We have him in the meeting room," Chiyoh says, and Hannibal growls, pushing himself from the car and leading the way to the meeting room. "There is something else, Alpha," she says, at his shoulder. Hannibal gives a rumble, showing he's listening; "Freddie Lounds is dead."

Hannibal freezes in place, and looks at her. "How?" he demands. "When?"

"We received word this morning," Tobias tells him. "One of hers came here with the rogue, and asked to see you. When we said you were not here, he told us that his leader had been killed, and asked for a ceasefire."

Hannibal's brows rise. "A ceasefire?" he asks.

Tobias nods.

"He said they would not retaliate." Chiyoh rests a hand on Hannibal's arm. "You'll see why," she says, and nods to the door.

Hannibal frowns, and opens it. Inside the place is empty, except for his chair. Within it, a single man sits. He's lounging, looking totally at home in its place, one leg slung over an armrest, the picture of ease, and his eyes – those beautiful, familiar blue-gold eyes – meet Hannibal's, as steadily as ever.

Hannibal lets out his breath, heavy and hard, like he's been winded. "Leave us," he demands, and waits until the door closes.

Will smiles at him, scratching the corner of his mouth with a thumb. There's red crusted around his fingernails. Hannibal steps into the room, so many questions rising up in him at once – they clog the door of his throat, yammering to be the first, and as a result, he is silent.

Will lifts his chin – not in challenge – and scents the air. His head tilts. "Got sloppy, this time," he murmurs, and looks at his nails. His teeth align themselves, show, and he huffs through his nose, rolls his eyes. "Got carried away." He clicks his nails against his teeth, looks to the window.

Hannibal takes another step forward. "You," he breathes, and Will's eyes flash to his. "It was you, this whole time?"

Will smiles again. "It's always been me, Hannibal," he purrs. "Years ago, when Dolarhyde lost his pet, Mister Tier. When Gideon went feral and killed his mate and family, I'm the one that put him down. When…" He sighs, and gestures vaguely with his red hand. "Yes," he finishes. "It was me."

"Will, I…"

Will tenses, as he takes another step forward. He straightens in Hannibal's chair, puts both feet on the floor and rests his hands on the armrests.

Hannibal has never seen Will like this before. It shakes him to the core – that his sweet, gentle mate would be capable of such cruelty. That he could look at Hannibal like that – like a predator, purring in the presence of its mate. Hannibal cannot speak, so he does the only thing he can think to do.

He sinks to his knees at Will's feet, takes Will's hands between both his own, and kisses his knuckles.

He shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because I could," Will replies gently, cupping Hannibal's chin. "I can do things you can't, Hannibal – things your generals can't. No one would suspect the quiet, sweet mate of the infamous Hannibal Lecter. Half of them think you rape me and chain me up so I can't escape." He smiles, dimpling his cheeks, off-kilter and fine. "I like proving them wrong."

"Will…"

"Are you angry with me?" Will whispers.

Hannibal shakes his head again, breathes out a laugh that's borderline hysterical. "Angry? No, darling, I could never be angry with you. I'm…surprised."

"Pleased?"

"Proud," Hannibal whispers, and lifts his eyes. "Proud beyond measure. _Will_." He reaches up, cups Will's face with a tender hand. "I was wrong – I thought I could not love you more, and yet here you sit; I feel like I have been blind, for so long." He takes Will's hand, kisses his knuckles again. "Forgive me, darling, please."

"I worked very hard to keep you blind," Will says. He presses his lips together, swallows, and ducks his head. "I didn't think about the consequences – I put you under threat, risked all the pack. But I couldn't stand the thought of our enemies growing in strength, and doing _nothing_ to stop it."

"You did what I could not, because of my position," Hannibal says. And that is true – Hannibal is too known, he would not have been able to get within two miles of Freddie, or Jack, or Francis. Neither could any of his generals. _Will_ , though…

He can see it, clear as day, as if Will were playing him a movie – appearing to Francis, weak and sobbing, begging him to help Will escape Hannibal's wrath. Using his scent and his sweet whines to lure him close; gutting him, cutting him, when Francis took the bait. Sees Will gently pressing on Bella's damaged lungs, dosing her up on so much morphine she slipped into a peaceful sleep. He doesn't know how Freddie died, but judging from Will's hands, it wasn't clean. It wasn't quick.

He doesn't even ask how Will slipped his guards – clearly, he has underestimated his mate in more ways than one. He can't fault his men for doing the same. They probably didn't even notice.

"'Your law is my law'," Will breathes. "That's what you said."

"And I meant it."

"I don't like guns, Hannibal – they're not intimate enough for me. I'm not a butcher, I'm not an executioner, and I'm not one of your dogs. I'm not going to kill like one."

"No," Hannibal whispers. "Of course not."

"But I _will_ kill for you," Will finishes, and leans in, cups Hannibal's face and brings their foreheads together. "Let me do this for you – do what you can't, what needs to be done."

Hannibal shivers, rising to his knees to kiss Will fiercely. Will whines, gasping softly, pawing at the back of Hannibal's neck. His knees part to allow Hannibal between them, and he moans as Hannibal rises to his feet, pulls Will upright, and kisses him until they are both breathless.

"Oh, Will," he whispers when they part. "I don't think you have ever been more beautiful to me."

Will smiles, and purrs happily. He laughs, and laces their fingers together, lets Hannibal lift his hands between their chests, admiring the old, brown-red crack of blood lining his nails, his palms, his knuckles. "You're truly not angry?" he murmurs. "You were right – I was reckless, and caused a lot of trouble."

Hannibal shakes his head. "We will deal with it," he replies. "Together." Will's eyes flash, brightening with joy and relief, and he smiles when Hannibal kisses his knuckles.

" _Finally_ ," Will laughs. He lifts to his toes, nudges Hannibal, cheek to cheek, and kisses him chastely. Hannibal smiles into it. Seven generals, and Hannibal, and Will – nine is a good number, too.

Will tilts his head, deepens their kiss, and Hannibal breathes in deeply as he smells Will's scent growing sweeter, feels him tremble and warming in Hannibal's arms. He growls, when Will shivers, whining sweetly, arching against him.

"Come, darling," Hannibal purrs, tugging Will from the chair, towards the door. "You deserve a reward for your loyalty."

Will's eyes flash, bright and eager and gold, and he smiles, and follows.


End file.
